Arguably the most prestigious race in all of motorsports, the 24 Hours of Le Mans tends to make—or break—manufacturers and teams alike. After Mercedes had respectfully withdrawn from all forms of motorsport following the harrowing incident in 1955's 24 Hours of Le Mans, the Mercedes partnered Sauber C9 which won the very same race in 1989 may well be the single most important modern Mercedes in the company's history, transforming Mercedes overnight from shy to showy, making sure that they can look back at their history with as much pride and happiness as sorrow.
The core market share of Mercedes might not see much of a connection between their cars and the rear mid engined C9 though. After all, most Mercedes cars on the road are plush, well built, stable cruisers which happen to be silver in colour. Contort and crawl behind the wheel of the C9 however, and you'll find that many of those adjectives apply to it as well, just without the air con and leather... and a whole lot of noise. Point is, for a Group C racing car that has an as–tested top speed of 331km/h (205mph), the C9 behaves with stability and lack of drama throughout its vehement climb to said speed, remaining easy to control through the variety of corners and surfaces that the French village roads present. Much like the mid engined supercars of today with way too much power for anyone's good, the RMR C9 is set up so that whatever the corner or situation, it'll always be the front tyres that are the limiting factor from corner entry to exit, resulting in mild, slightly annoying, but easily correctable understeer in the worst of times.
...that is, once you shift into third or above.
Let's not mince words: the C9 is still packing a whopping 927HP (691kW) in Gran Turismo Sport, way more than the 530kW that Mercedes claim on their website, fed by a turbocharger that wheezes so loudly, it's almost like a backup singer trying to upstage the main star, all of which goes through well–aged tyres unfettered by traction control. We rely on a bevy of electronic nannies smarter than us to mitigate that recipe for disaster in cars today with way more power than anyone could ever use, none of which existed 30 years ago even in a Le Mans conquering car that fully utilises its 710HP for most of the race. Stuffed with over 1.5 bar (21.7psi) of boost at its peak, the 4,973cc M119HL V8 engine certainly wakes up with a furor when it comes on song at about 6,500rpm, and the turbo whistle when that happens is way more prominent an indicator than the tachometer staring you in the face. Corner exits out of Arnage or the Mulsanne Chicanes the car never had to deal with in 1989 then, need to be taken not only with a delicate and precise right foot, but also a keen ear, lest the rear mid mounted engine finds itself in the mood to overtake the ditz of a driver sitting in front of it. In Gran Turismo Sport, the non–linear throttle and overrated power makes the precise amount of go juice to give very difficult to gauge, but it's still markedly easier than trying to tame the less powerful car in Gran Turismo 7, where rear tyres have zero lateral grip. In either game and trim, it's not a car I'm very flirtatious with the limits of, and the car just somehow feels comfortable being underdriven like that at lower speed corners where the car has too much mechanical power and no aerodynamic grip.
Aerodynamic grip? Surprisingly for a car that in real life has set a new speed record of 400km/h (248mph) at la Sarthe during qualifying, the C9 has eye–watering levels of downforce despite its simplistic appearance, as does every other Group C car lumped into Gr.1. While not very apparent at la Sarthe, the C9 can take high speed corners at a rate which will cause inexperienced reviewers and drivers with bad force feedback to question reality itself when ran elsewhere, such as the newly renovated Trail Mountain Circuit in America. In saturated conditions, daring drivers will be eyeing 250km/h (155mph) on full wet tyres before the menacing Mercedes turns itself into a murderous merry–go–round. Don't ask me how I found that out.
Is the Sauber C9 the best Group C car for the odd Gr.1 race at Le Mans No Chicane? Is it competitive? Far be it from me, someone with no idea on how to drive high downforce cars, to tell you. I do distinctly remember that one rare time when Gran Turismo Sport made an effort to distinguish Group C from LMP1 though, hosting a Daily Race combo at Fuji with only the former category, which saw almost every driver opt for the C9 as though the namesake of Group C itself, which came as quite the surprise to me given how pokey it is out of technical low speed sections that comprises the last sector of Fuji almost entirely; I had thought that a NA machine like the XJR-9 or perhaps even the 787B, significantly lighter than everything else in the category, would be better suited for that particular combo. That the C9 became the firm, competitive favourite even when all factors seem to work against it then, I think is very telling of how good and competitive it is among its Group C compatriots, and should not be taken lightly under any circumstance, despite what logic may at first tell you.
That is to say, it's a car that needs to be driven instead of read or speculated about.
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